Obediently, gratefully, she’d followed where He led. Her rock-solid belief that she could rely on Him to make her paths straight turned the impossible job of parenting Dylan while she herself was still a teenager into something she could do—with the Lord’s equipping.

Dylan had paid her back by continuing to adore her through his elementary school years. He was rambunctious but also kind. Truly kind.

Then his middle school years had crept in. The little boy who’d built his life around her became a gangly adolescent. He’d started to pull away. Give her attitude. Establish his independence. Indulge in moods.

As the years marched on, he’d become more reclusive, and now Dylan was a boy-man with long arms and hairy legs and the beginnings of facial hair and a voracious appetite.

She grieved their former closeness. And, in moments like this one, she ached for the affectionate baby, the trusting preschooler, and the pure-hearted elementary schooler he’d been.

On good days, she told herself that he’d likely become a contributing member of society one day. On bad days, it seemed frighteningly possible that he’d end up wearing an orange jumpsuit in a penitentiary.

It was humbling to observe baby Levi because she was certain his parents were praying fervently that he’d simply have the chance to grow into a boy-man with long arms and hairy legs. She hoped Levi received the opportunity God had given Dylan—the opportunity to experience all the passions, trials, and victories that life offered.

Next, they entered the room of a baby girl. A pink blanket had been folded over and smoothly tucked around her sides. Tape held a ventilator tube to her mouth. IVs snaked into her veins.

A blond woman set aside the book she’d been reading and rose. Sebastian introduced her as Megan.

“This is my daughter,” Megan said to Leah. “Isabella.”

“She’s beautiful.”

Isabella shifted slightly. She moved her mouth as if to make noise, but remained soundless.

Sebastian appered to be reading Isabella’s monitors.

“Do you . . . live in Atlanta?” Leah asked Megan.

“We live two hours away, in Augusta. At first I drove in every morning and drove home every evening, but that was just too hard. So now I’m staying at the Ronald McDonald House. My husband works during the week in Augusta and joins me here on weekends.”

“I’ll stop by later,” Sebastian said to Megan.

“Sounds good.”

He headed out.

“Nice to meet you,” Leah said before following Sebastian. They walked back toward the central desk. “How common is it for one parent to live here and the other in their hometown while their child is being treated?”

“Very common. Spending time with Isabella has become Megan’s full-time job. She’s here most of the day, every day.”

“What’s Isabella’s diagnosis?”